my blood is radioactive
by blairswaldorfs
Summary: Magic grows until it overtakes. Serena and Blair are witches, born from rival families. WIP — blairserena.
1. prolouge

_(_ Magic grows until it overtakes. Serena and Blair are witches, born from rival families _)_

 ** _my blood is radioactive_**

 _(_ **a/n:** this can be a standalone or a prolouge — it just depends on my time, but it was written as a prolouge and i intend to have this be a WIP and multi-chaptered _)_

* * *

Her lips are bruised, her skin torn. There is a cut above her eyebrow, marring her skin. It'll scar, another one to add to the list of many, but those are usually hidden; they're in her stomach lining and in her mind, a few scattered across her arm that she covers up with make-up. Her hands are curled into fists, red nail polish peeking out and Serena is looking at her like she's a stranger to her, like they haven't spent the past four months caught up in each other.

Blair touches the cut, wincing as it stings. It's a blemish, a flaw, something else to hate. Serena looks at her like she's a stranger and her stomach twists and flips and the anger she's tried so hard to push away builds up and up. If anyone was to betray anyone, it would be Blair betraying Serena, wouldn't it? She's the cruel and twisted one, pouring yogurt on girls-it's fitting that she would be the betrayer, she's the one cloaked in darkness but Serena is the girl who runs, runs until the problem is out of sight and everyone she loves is left to pick up the crumbling pieces she leaves behind. Blair loves and loves until she gives herself up, until she's given someone everything and Serena is distant, forever falling in love but never giving herself.

Blair tries not to get involved, to make less bonds and strings to other people but she's got her heart on her sleeve. Serena, on the other hand, gives pieces of herself to everyone; something for them here, something for them there. She is the girl who floats in and out of lives with a loud tinkling laugh and a swoosh of a skirt, giggling like she's magical; made of magic, she is, Blair thinks as she watches Serena pull herself up off of the ground. Serena loves for a second and then leaves. Blair is careful with who she loves but she never stops loving them.

It was a mistake to get involved, she knew that from the first moment she saw Serena; golden hair hanging loose, uniform crinkled and crumpled, wide-blue eyes that sung _lost girl, lost girl, save me._ Blair knew from the moment she learned Serena's last name, learned who her family was; rivals to the Waldorf's, powerful witches that were caught on the opposite side of the magical war that took place a century ago. For a hundred years the van der Woodsen's and Waldorf's had loathed each other, loathed the power the other family carried.

But, Blair has never been able to tame her heart or control it. She falls until she can't stop herself, falls without noticing, not until she's lying on the ground struggling to breathe. Struggling to survive. So she fell. Followed Serena around, taunting her with the cruel words only a teenage girl can muster, the scars adolescence leaves dished out by Constance's Queen. Magic hurts for a moment but Blair's words scar for an eternity. But, Serena was indifferent, brushing each harsh word off like they were only words and not a sword stabbing through her skin; other girls cower in fear, run for their lives, cry in the school bathrooms, gasping for air. But Serena laughs and keeps on walking, parties at the same clubs, in the same spaces, kisses her boyfriend underneath the fluorescent strobe lights and doesn't blink an eye when Blair threatens to destroy her.

Serena was indifferent and casual, no display of a negative emotion until Blair summoned the winds and storms to knock Serena down; pushing her to the ground in a fatal swoop of anger, dangerous magics conjured up to ruin the girl who her family pit against her, to ruin the girl who won't take the bait of her pushing and instead takes to making out with her (ex)-boyfriend. It's not until flashes of greys and blacks are gushing towards her that her eyes turn angry and her body language stiff, blocking off the attacks with swoops of yellow.

Blair tumbles to the ground, lower lip wobbling - _don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_ \- but all she sees is Serena, rolling her eyes, laughing off her remarks, retorting with witty words of her own, kissing Nate. Her and Nate play in her mind, the way Serena had touched him, the way their lips had locked and the flash of jealousy that had gone through Blair's heart when she had wondered what it was like for Nate. Was Serena a good kisser? How did it feel when she touched you? Her stomach tingling as she yearned to know.

Serena pauses, her face softening as she takes in the appearance of Blair, knocked to the ground; some form of success radiates within Serena before she quickly pulls Blair up to her feet. "We don't have to be like our families." It's said because Serena hates her family, her reluctant and distant yet still overbearing mother who disapproves of everything she does, who jets off from country to country with her newest arm-candy, leaving Serena and Eric to raise themselves. Her father who left her when she was young, bidding goodbye and never returning again. If she gives into the pettiness of their rivalry she becomes them, she becomes her worst fear, worst nightmare.

Blair hesitates before she takes Serena's hand, her own family nightmares playing on a loop in her mind. Eleanor's frown as she seizes up her daughters figure, switching pastries to fruits and yogurts. Leaving for Paris and Milan and London, models walking in and out of their penthouse day in and day out, her mother fawning over slim, beautiful girls while forgetting about her daughter. Her father leaving, jetting off to Paris with Roman, leaving her behind to deal with the lack of love from her mother. Leaving her behind her for his boyfriend. She doesn't want to give in to their bitterness and hate, maybe befriending the wrong girl, their rival will will them to pay attention to Blair.

After that, any bad blood between them has vanished. Serena borrows clothes from Blair and Blair maps out Serena's bedroom in her mind, knowing it as well as she knows the back of her hand. They giggle and laugh together, arms linked as they walk through shops, gossiping about Is and Kati and the guy Penelope hooked up with over the weekend, trading lipstick tips and kissing techniques and throwing back shots together in the pale moonlight, laughing loudly and brightly as they stumble out of clubs, drunkenly dancing on tabletops and taking midnight swims at Serena's grandmothers Hamptons house. It's the friendship Blair has read about, eagerly flipping pages in the dark, but has never had with any of the girls who sit below her on the steps.

It's the type of friendship that she read about in romance novels, where it wasn't two girls who were friends but a boy and girl dying for each other, giving up pieces of themselves to share; epic, grand romances and easy, simple loves. It was what she saw on the screen in old Hollywood films, the same type of love between the two main stars displayed between her and Serena. It's the running in the night she saw on indie films, two love-interests laughing like this was the only time they had left. It was the tightening in her chest when she watched those movies with Serena, fingers trembling as she touched her arm, her hand. Being with Serena was like being on fire. Everything was dangerous. Everything was precious. Everything felt like it would burn to the ground in one wrong move. It was the most comfortable Blair has ever felt with anyone.

Blair doesn't know how they ended up here— Serena turning on her, eyes black and cold and lifeless. Blair bruised and broken and betrayed. "We were built to be rivals." Serena tells her, the voice sounds like Serena but the words aren't her; they're the family hatred they were breed into, the family pettiness they rejected. Blair can feel her heart breaking, like in cartoons when they show that love-heart and it's pounding until it shatters. Blair can feel that happening inside of her chest; her breathing haggard.

"Serena," Blair says, eyes wide as she watches her get up, brushing off the dirt off of her jeans. This is the girl who she kissed last night, her lips tasting warm and like Summer, giggling against each others skin. Serena nibbling on her ear, telling her she was beautiful, the most beautiful girl she's ever seen. How could this be her? How could this be the same girl? "This isn't you. It can't be you."

And Serena looks at her, a girl so different from the girl she knows, and Blair has made up her mind: this is not Serena and she's not going to wait around for her to show.


	2. one

_(_ **a/n:** the second installment of **my blood is radioactive** _!_ once it's finished i am planning to put it up on AO3 as i do prefer it as a writing platform for my more lengthy pieces. inspiration (not surprisingly _!_ ) stems from willow's season six buffy the vampire slayer arc and blair/serena witch graphic aus - key word inspiration _)_

* * *

Her hands crawl up her own throat, black nails against her pale skin; this is who she is, dark and dangerous and mad. It's who she's become, driven by power and revenge and the body of her brother on a hospital bed. It's the image of him lying across that bed, pale and tired, that's driven her to this point. Magic is dangerous, her mother always told her. It's a power you need to harness and control, otherwise it controls you. But Serena has seen The Craft a hundred times, she knows all about the dangers of magic. It's something that was never going to happen to her - not bright, giggly, gold Serena.

But she's fallen powerless to the power. To the darkness that runs through her blood. Her skin is torn and her heart is in shreds and everything is a mess inside of her head, conflicting emotions and images and the surge of power that she feels each time she sends a bolt of lightening Blair's way. _Blair_ —her eyes snap towards her, where she's standing on the corner, eyes cold and lower lip wobbling.

"This isn't you. This can't be you." Blair says, and Serena hears it faintly in the background as she gets up. Brushes the dirt off of her jeans. Looks up at the friend she forged out of a hatred from her family. The girl who's lips taste faintly of strawberries and caramel mocha. Her hair is soft and her laugh is beautiful, not that many people get to hear it the way Serena has—inhibition gone, her voice giggly and loud, eyes crinkling and shining. It's a sight that takes away your breath.

"It is." Serena says firmly, giving one long lingering look at the girl she's sure she's in love with before she turns the opposite way from her and runs away from her. Fast. Her legs taking her away from the only person who could save her. But Serena doesn't wanna be saved and you can't save someone who doesn't want to be.

Serena still remembers the day she first saw Blair, sitting high and mighty on the steps outside of the MET, regal and poised like a school girl pretending to be a Queen; high collar, ruffles and red stockings underneath her plaid school skirt. Her eyes dangerous and deadly, sending daggers in Serena's direction. But there was something about her that drew Serena in, that made her hang around despite the words Blair threw her way, the sneer that seemed to be permanently stitched on her face whenever Serena was around.

It grew tiresome fast, after weeks of Blair hating her, when all Serena wanted to do was grab her hand and drag her to the back of the library and kiss her until her breath went away. Snuggled up under blankets and books and mysterious kingdoms that the two of them could pretend to rule. Serena's not a fool, she knew that it would never happen in a million years. Even if Blair wasn't a Waldorf and she wasn't a van der Woodsen, even if their families don't have knives pushed up against each others throats, singing curses to hurt the other. Blair doesn't hate her because of her last name, she hates her because she's Serena. It's that knowledge that tears up her insides while on the outside she remains the picture of calm and indifference.

It's in a dark and crowded club, music pulsating through the room and Blair on the opposite end. Stiff and poised with a martini in hand. Her boyfriend sitting in a booth. It's in a dark and crowded club that Serena lashes out for the first time, her hips swinging as she makes her way over to Blair's boyfriend. His name a forgotten word in her mind as she pushes her lips against his and her legs on his thighs. It's because it's the closest she can get to Blair, the knowledge that this is a boy who's kissed the girl she can't have. _Does Blair kiss like this?_ She wonders, tongue dipping inside his mouth. Oblivious to the girl watching from the sidelines yet she's the only image playing in her mind, her fingers curling against his shoulders and his girlfriend's name on the edge of her tongue.

Every corner Serena turns there's Blair. It's like this girl is a poison. A poison Serena is all too happy to devour. Things quickly change—hate turning to a battle turning to a sisterhood formed between the two girls who latch onto each other like without the other they'll die. One second with each other isn't enough, one second apart is like a form of dying that neither of them can endure.

 _We were built to be rivals._ It's the last thing she said to her before she turned away, back turned to the only form of salvation she's known. From the sweetest drug she's ever tasted. The purest alcohol her lips have ever touched.

Her legs don't pause, she doesn't stop, until she reaches the hospital. It's busy outside and she knows it's even busier inside; she knows Eric is lying on a bed by himself, her mother fretting at home, getting drunk off of her grandmothers whiskey and forgetting all about the children she's forgotten to raise their whole lives. She's all he has. But she can't go inside and see him again; she can't watch as he sleeps and as he looks at her like she is the cause for his misery, too caught up in herself and other people — Blair — to see that he was hurting. He'll be moved to the Ostroff Centre tomorrow.

Serena sinks further into her despair as she stands outside, paused as she watches ambulances rush in and out. Gathering all the strength she has left she turns away from the hospital, hands shoved in the pocket of her jacket and her hair covering her face as she walks to the nearest bar. Not towards the high-end clubs she frequents, dancing on tables with Blair and drinking mimosas as they wave off guys not worthy of their time, but to the dirty, gritty bars she likes to go to when things are bad, when she can blend into the background and be no-one and nothing; where the boys are men and the women throw punches.

Nobody she knows will be there and if they are they're looking for the same things she is: silence and loneliness and an escape; god, she just wants to be left alone to her own destructive devices, to the magic and the alcohol and the lines of cocaine she used to like to take at night. To the pills and the potions and the loss of friends. To all the things that go bump in the night, to the dangerous lines she likes to cross when she shines just that little less brighter. To the graveyards and the big, black pots of gurgling poisons and the leather-bound spell books she keeps locked up in her room. To the bad spells she practices in secret.

It's cold when she steps inside. Jeans and her leather jacket not warding off the chill. Dark, too. Muscly men in booths that eye her up like she's a slab of meat on a platter to hand to them. Her lips are pulled tight as she passes them, chanting underneath her breath a spell to keep them away from anyone else they could decide to hurt.

Her legs swing her up onto an empty stool at the bar, her hands producing a fake I.D. to the bartender who doesn't ask for her age but eyes her up like he either wants to take her home or kick her out. Her hands curling around the tequila shot in front of her; the last time she did one of these was last week, arms intertwined with Blair, their faces touching as they put their heads back and let the alcohol shoot through their system before getting up to dance. She's not going to be dancing after this one, fingers curl around the glass, pick it up and shoot it back. Demanding another one.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Her eyes shoot over to the boy that's slid into the seat next to her. Her grip loosening on her third shot. He's in a tailored suit—Hugo Boss, if Serena can guess correctly—and he looks familiar, like a faint image that trickles into the back of her mind.

"I'm drinking." Serena replies, her eyes moving to where her glass sits in her hands. Empty. He leans in closer and she catches a whiff of his cologne and she wonders why he has to invade her personal boundaries when all she wants is to be left alone in her empty misery.

"Serena, right?" He says, it's not a question; he's telling her he knows her, as he orders a scotch from the bar. Serena rolls her eyes. Her fingers drumming against the counter top of the bar, there's a spell she could do that could blow this whole bar up. Destroy it from the inside out. If she did a transportation spell she could make it out of there alive.

"Depends." Serena says instead. Mass murder isn't something she wants on her resume just yet.

"On what?" He asks. Leans closer, there's a girl behind him that Serena hadn't noticed until now. Her hair raven black, smirking as she leans in close, as well.

"Who you are." Serena whispers, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. He looks back over at the woman, raising an eyebrow and having a silent conversation with her.

"I'm Carter." He says.

"And I'm Georgina." The girl behind him introduces herself.


End file.
